Cooked
by SKH
Summary: The Penguin heats things up for the Caped Crusaders


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**COOKED **

By SKH  


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©August 2001  
Rating: PG  
Characters: Batman, Robin-I, guest star

This story was an entry in Gina Ivy's fic challenge, limited to 1000 words (hence its brevity).  
Thanks, Gina, for helping this long-suffering and patient plot bunny to come to fruition. It was   
originally going to be a Nightwing and Batman vehicle, but as I started writing, youthful Robin   
stepped forward and took charge. He turned a potential angst-fest into a simple, silver-age style story,  
with a little gratuitous campiness.  
Disclaimer: Above-mentioned characters are owned by DC Comics.  
No profit is realized from creation of stories based on these characters.  
Timeframe: Early in Robin-I's career, probably around age ten or eleven.  
Comments and feedback are welcome to SKHwrite@aol.com 

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SLAM!!

"Ow!"

SLAM!!

"OW!"

SLAM!!

"@%$&*#$!"

Robin, the Boy Wonder, picked himself up from the floor of the metal shipping container, cursing under his breath. He'd tried every method he could think of to get out. His utility belt, gloves, shoes, cape, vest and shirt had been confiscated after his first escape attempt — a humiliating search had revealed the lock-pick hidden in the waistband of his tights.

He and Batman had been investigating the Penguin's shipyard smuggling operation. Separated for better surveillance, Robin had stepped first into the nest of too many thugs with too many guns. Batman's standing orders in that kind of situation was signal and wait. He did.

Tossed into the cargo container, he quickly escaped via his tools, but was subdued, stripped, searched and again sequestered in the trailer-sized metal box. He'd been able to drop a single tracer outside the container, by which Batman had located him. But something had gone very wrong, and Penguin's goons had overtaken Batman. Unconscious and bleeding from what looked like a bullet-graze to the head, Batman had soon joined Robin in the claustrophobic cell.

Robin had stopped Batman's bleeding with the crusaders' cape, and frustrated, was now throwing his small, wiry body at the container door. "With time, tools and training, you can make your escape," Batman had instructed his young partner. Robin's nose wrinkled at the acrid smell of smoke. "Tools are gone, and now we don't have much time," he mumbled, regretting Batman's missing utility belt. The sides of the metal cargo box began to heat up. Penguin's thugs had set fire to the warehouse and left them to burn alive.

"Unngh...Robin..." Batman fought his way to consciousness, aware of the smoke and increasing heat. They had to get out; he had to get his young partner out.

"You're gonna wish you'd stayed knocked out, Batman. Looks like we're toast!" Robin knelt beside his mentor, both their expressions grim. Robin touched the side of the container and jerked his bare hand back — yowza! Hot! He hooked his arm under Batman's and helped the big hero away from the container wall and to his feet.

Batman shook his head, his senses crystallizing on their circumstances. He moved to the door and gave it a kick, testing its strength.

"Tried that! If we weren't going to burn to death I'd say I'll have bruises for a week!"

"You're not going to burn to death, Robin." Batman ran his fingers along the hem of his cape, extracting a thin metal blade. He jimmied the door's lock.

"Hey, where'd you get that?? If I'd known that was there we'd have been outta here before this barbecue started!" Robin complained angrily.

"It's new. Stand back."

Batman cracked the door of the container open to reveal the gates of Hell. The warehouse was completely involved now. He looked at Robin, who was now hopping from the heat beneath his bare feet. Batman looked back into the fire, judging the distance to safety — fifty yards, at least. His suit and cape were fire resistant, not fireproof, and he'd have to carry Robin. Grim reality hit. Without his utility belt — and its line-launcher — they stood no chance. One jump-line grappled to a warehouse ceiling beam and they could have swung free of this inferno. Batman closed the door against the blaze.

"What's the plan?" Robin coughed, still hopping.

"We wait." Batman sat in the center of the container. "Sit here." He made room between his legs for Robin to sit, shielded from the heat by Batman's cape. Robin sat, and Batman wrapped his cape around them.

"Wait for what?" Robin's muffled voice rose from beneath the wings of Batman's cape.

"Resolution."

Batman wouldn't let the boy perish in agony, when the time came. He had a plan... for everything. Everything, it seemed, except their escape.

Robin tried to suppress the cough that was building in his chest from the smoke. This was it. 'Heh, we're going out in a *real* blaze of glory, like heroes are supposed to.' Robin kept his last pun to himself.

Suddenly, the container lurched violently, and the heroes felt themselves in motion, with crashing sounds all around them. In seconds, the motion stilled, and the top and sides of the box were pulled away to reveal a smiling Man of Steel.

"Superman!" Robin yelled, poking his head out of Batman's cape.

"How?..." Batman began, rising from the ground.

"Alfred called me when he heard about the fire on the emergency band. His last contact with you was Robin's signal tracer in the warehouse," Superman explained. "Good thing these containers aren't made of lead!" he smiled.

"No kidding! I thought we were cooked for sure!" Robin exclaimed.

"Not us, Robin, but I know a Penguin who's going to be roasted," Batman growled.

The Caped Crusader extended his hand in silent gratitude to the Man of Steel, who shook it gladly.

"Now, anyone care for a lift to the Batmobile?" Superman asked with a glint in his sky-blue eyes.

"Yeah! You bet!" came Robin's enthusiastic response.

"Robin..." Batman cautioned.

"Batman... the Penguin's getting away! Let's go!"

Batman looked at his impatient, shirtless, shoeless partner and acquiesced to his youthful vigilante enthusiasm.

"You're right, chum. To the Batmobile!"

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- Fin.


End file.
